Hard to Believe
by garnet eyes
Summary: Waking up in a Mako tank was not unusual for the General of Shin-Ra's army, what with the experiments and occasional horrific wounds that not even a SOLDIER could heal. Waking up in a Mako tank in an abandoned lab, however, was something new. AU.


Title: Hard to Believe

Author: Garnet Eyes

Archived: fanfiction. net, y-gallery. net

Summary: If he had to guess, the SOLDIER would have believed he had just suffered extensive damage during a mission-gone-wrong. Sephiroth was not certain that he found the reality of his situation easier to stomach.

Rating: T

Pairings: None

Author Notes: I have not had the time to watch/play anything in the Final Fantasy VII universe beyond the original game and Advent Children. Therefore, I am certain there are inconsistencies between my writing and newer games or movies.

Disclaimers: Final Fantasy VII is owned by Squaresoft and I in no way, shape, or form profit off of my writing. This is simply for my own pleasure, and may at any time be removed and/or modified as I see fit.

...

After several months, he was feeling distinctly less strained. Although still frail compared to his former physique, the ex-SOLDIER was much stronger than the first days of his recovery. Floating comatose for however long in a Mako tank in a hidden laboratory apparently weakened even the most genetically enhanced. If he hadn't been vaguely aware of his past indiscretions culminating in a nervous breakdown that most certainly involved the razing of an innocent town, the SOLDIER might have thought he was just waking back up from injuries sustained on a standard mission. However, it did not seem plausible given the decay prevalent in the room, such as the deteriorating leather uniform laid out; perhaps this was some sort of bizarre experiment that he was being subjected to as punishment. Or he may very well have been left, intended to stay sedated until a proper punishment could be concocted and instigated.

There were, of course, other options, such as Shin-Ra in all of its infinite wisdom deciding that he could do no wrong and he really was simply being left to recover. That wasn't a strong enough possibility for the silver warrior to remain patiently resting on the floor of the drained tank, so he took it upon himself to attempt to force open the container's door. His body was alien in its awkwardness, unresponsive and unable to perform the simplest of tasks. It was concerning to be in such a horrific state; the elite was left vulnerable without his strength and coordination as a boon and, from the looks of it, Masamune would not be of great assistance since she appeared to have no bindings on the hilt and the blade looked to be a bit loose from the guard. Of course, his worries were all made into a moot point when the laboratory door blasted from its track; surely that had not suddenly become a standard Shin-Ra practice. The individuals who appeared were unrecognizable to the SOLDIER although very few of them seemed prepared in the least for any type of combat.

As he was carted away, up a slope of dirt and debris, it became increasingly obvious that he was in an excavation site. So the laboratory had been built underground and either abandoned or left hidden; knowing Hojo, the General could not help but think that he had been locked away for experimentation purposes. None knew what to do with him at first, amazed and confused that he was alive, oddly enough. That changed rapidly, however, and it was not long before scientists became involved, poking and prodding as they always had. Hojo was not part of this particular faction, for better or for worse; Sephiroth truly debated whether he was better off in the hands of unknown scientists from some terrorist group or simply staying undiscovered in the underground laboratory and being allowed to rot.

Although it hardly seemed fair, after all Shin-Ra had done far worse collectively than destroy a town, the SOLDIER was set into a volley of scheduled tests and sessions, turning into yet another science experiment for yet another group of scientists. Having lived through Hojo's machinations, the silver warrior could easily put up with the purposefully broken bones, strange injections, and the vivisections. Too weak to oppose those around him, Sephiroth merely suffered in silence and mentally steeled himself for mapping out a way to escape. It might have been a year before he had the chance. His body had never recovered, remaining mostly atrophied and painfully uncoordinated under the watch of his current caretakers. Only the belief that he was currently harmless allowed for the lax security required for the SOLDIER to flee. Regrettably, Masamune had to be left behind, but he promised himself that he would return for her another day as he reached the moon-lit, insect infested surface world just beyond the steel doors of the laboratory compound. The facility was by an ocean, water reflecting the pale light in patterned ripples.

Using the location to his advantage, the General stumbled into the waters and chose a direction, letting the waves hide his progress. It was not easy to make any distance, what with the tides and his already pathetically atrophied limbs protesting even the slightest motion. Whatever chemical cocktail had most recently been introduced to his system had significantly dimmed his vision as well, making his night eyesight truly feeble. His head pulsed and his legs shook, dragging in the wet sand and causing him to stumble many times, landing awkwardly into the surf and failing for long minutes to force himself back to his feet every time. He was, however, a SOLDIER first and foremost and he knew better than to let physical duress stop his forward motion. As long as he could get enough distance and find a place to hide, the silver warrior could recover a bit of strength and move on to reach a safe haven.

Exhausted though he was, Sephiroth did not allow his legs to fully give out until the first rays of the sun peaked over the water. With the greatest effort of his life, the SOLDIER fought against the ocean and succeeded in crawling far enough inland that he would not be swept away. The trees and shrubs scraped against naked flesh but the elite ignored the minor pain and curled down in the sandy dirt, covered by leafy branches and twigs. Blissful darkness took his mind after that, allowing him a brief respite from the pain of his body and the most recent drugs pumped into his system.

The next time feline eyes opened, the silver warrior was lying comfortably in a single bed under thick blankets, smelling nothing like the surf, and washed of the grit and sand that had decorated his naked form. A loose pair of pajamas covered his frame, duly noted as he forced his body upright, hissing in pain and putting pressure on his abdomen soon after. Two men were beside him at once, one blonde and the other with black hair, forcing him back down. For a brief, agonizing moment, the SOLDIER thought that he had not escaped after all, but then a cold compress was placed on his brow and the hands pressing him down loosened as his struggles faded. Nothing tethered him but he could not get up and leave until the two watching him were distracted. Set to a new plan, the General watched and waited, silently creeping from the bed and eventually the room when given the chance. His escape was foiled by his own weakened body and a severe bout of vertigo, catching the attention of his current jailors. Sephiroth could only hope that Zackary hadn't abandoned him and was still searching when not on Shin-Ra mandated missions as he was carried back to the bed and laid flat once more.

The first day in this new setting left the General on edge; he was a captive in all but name and yet the two now containing him had not physically attacked him once. Only after noticing the glowing blue and red eyes did Sephiroth marginally relax although he did not recognize either man as being a SOLDIER. Still, that was information to be put to use and the General was not above pulling rank in this situation. The discomfort he felt when both men gained peculiar expressions upon hearing his demand for information remained well hidden, as did his shock upon being handed a thick tome later that day that was dated in a way far different from Shin-Ra standard. What was inside was completely unbelievable and Sephiroth was bound and determined to prove his jailors pathetic liars. They offered to take him out, surprisingly, which he accepted in full belief that he would run when given the chance. At the end of the first week of his current captivity was the set date; for the remainder of the rather calm days the SOLDIER rested and flushed his system of the rejected drugs as he was able.

The chocobo ride was… informative. The house was positioned on a cliff far above the sea, some distance from any sandy shore. It took several hours to reach the nearest town, which was named Vilfain according to the large wooden sign by the road. The village was sprawling, like a second Midgar in fact, and the SOLDIER was mildly perturbed that such a place existed when he had never heard of the name before. Walking through the bustling streets, flanked by the blonde and his ridiculously large sword – had Zackary ever taken on an apprentice? – on one side and the tall, stiff gunman – he must have been a Turk, but since when did Shin-Ra inject Turks with Mako? – on the other side, Sephiroth took in the sights with a leery eye. The clothing style was different than what he recalled being popular, but then again fashion was fickle and changed more often than he cared to check. General interactions between individuals was no different than anything in the silver warrior's recollection; nothing drastic seemed to have changed, lending weight to his own hypothesis that his captors were liars. Still, he was willing enough to acquiesce to stopping at a particular place if only to confirm his suspicions.

The library in the center of Vilfain was multiple stories, towering in the center of the city much like the Shin-Ra headquarters did in Midgar. Sephiroth occupied himself with tomes on history, if only to prove his point. What he found, however, left the General feeling confused and utterly lost. It _couldn't_ have been true; this was some horrible nightmare of sorts and he would wake up… what? In a laboratory in Midgar?

His escape from his captors was hardly a clean break, but Sephiroth could no sooner believe this _farce_ than he could see himself never taking up Masamune again. The blonde's chocobo was restless but nevertheless kept a steady pace as the SOLDIER used his procured "ancient" map to head toward Midgar. It was with a sinking sensation in his gut that he began to recognize the landscape from earlier that morning. Only when the chocobo warbled and scratched its clawed feet at the ground at the cliff's edge did the General finally tumble to the dirt numbly. Behind him, the tame bird scratched a little more at the ground before making its way to the stables. Surely this was a figment of his imagination, though; the silver warrior must have simply been delirious. Somehow that felt like hollow comfort as he remained in an anesthetized heap staring down at the sea basin where Midgar once stood.

Perhaps minutes or hours passed before, too exhausted mentally to even begin to struggle, the SOLDIER was picked up into thickly-corded arms and brought inside the nearby house. The brunette placed himself in the kitchen to prepare a meal while the blonde went into the bathing room and continued to care for the silver warrior's worn body. Only once did he pause when Sephiroth, desperate to believe that this was an elaborate ruse, grabbed one of the arms holding him upright in the tub and, swallowing suddenly thick saliva, asked where Zackary was. The blonde was visibly hesitant, pain flashing in iridescent azure eyes as he replied that the SOLDIER had died _centuries_ ago. Sephiroth could not help but laugh in utter disbelief, never recognizing the tears blurring his vision and coursing down his drawn cheeks, spilling into the bathwater below him. Nothing was making sense any longer.

By the next morning the General had carefully smoothed out his frayed nerves and began to look critically at all of the information he had acquired. All around him was a civilization long removed from the days of Shin-Ra, threatened more by beasts than human war. It was… odd to realize that he was a historical figure now. His life was laid out in texts, years that he would rather have forgotten published as simple fact. There were some aspects of his life and upbringing that _he_ had not known and Shin-Ra was not an entity to bare any of its skeletons to the world. Then there was all of his "history" that he did not recall, and the SOLDIER was fairly certain that he would remember life-threatening meteors and world apocalypses. Very few texts remained unbiased, taking his formative years as the sharp edge leading only to insanity. Those that did manage to keep personal opinions out still gave more weight to the supposed year of his time spent psychotic with obsessive rage. There was little reason to become offended whether he was indeed the culprit or not; the evils of a single night burned into a man's mind long after a thousand years of happiness.

Sephiroth hesitantly accepted that he had been unconscious through some of the greatest struggles of mankind, but none of what he had read explained the men who were currently caring for him. By all rights, they should have wanted him just as dead as all of the texts claimed him to be. The glow of their eyes was equally a mystery, given that Shin-Ra had fallen a long time ago and logically so, too, had the modifications of SOLDIER. Outright asking was unthinkable, but more research was not. After a few days, giving the silver warrior a chance to better recover both a sliver of strength and reorganize his thoughts, the three men journeyed back to the city and ventured again to the library, stealthily replacing the stolen map before Sephiroth took to reading every article he could get his hands on. Several floors were dedicated to history books; so much seemed to have happened after the destruction of that little town – Nibelheim.

The articles on the "world heroes" expounded on many struggles and undoubtedly had been edited for the purpose of sounding more impressive, but the names were always the same. The General admittedly would not have expected Reeve Tuesti to be one of the key players, but then again he would not have expected to be cast as a villain himself. A few other names caught his attention as well. Yuffie Kisaragi, daughter of Lord Godo, working alongside Reeve? Then there was one Barret Wallace, a leader of the terrorist organization Avalanche, working alongside Cid Highwind, considered one of Shin-Ra's best and most competent pilots and mechanics. Two names stood out more than the rest, though, and those were Vincent Valentine and Cloud Strife; the former was a Turk become experiment via Hojo and a scientist by the name of Lucrecia Crescent and the latter a survivor of the Nibelheim razing become experiment via Hojo. That would not have been nearly as important had the grainy, overall poor-quality pictures not been of the two men who took Sephiroth in. The facts were truly troubling for the silver warrior. As a SOLDIER, he did not fear death, but his analytical mind could not resolve why the ones who had lived through what amounted to the end of the world and ergo had the most right to loathe a specter from their past would care for him no questions asked. In particular, the blonde should have been put off by the task since the elite could not deny his part in destroying the man's childhood home. Although Strife did not act in the least, it was well within his rights to spite the silver warrior eternally. Yet no malice was forthcoming from any interactions; Sephiroth could not believe that he would be readily forgiven for killing anyone's family and had to wonder what kind of freakish saint he had been handed off to.

As Strife and Valentine had not watched over him as he read, the silver warrior kept his discovery to himself for the time being and collected the lists of books he still intended to read on the subject of who, precisely, each man really was. It seemed that his not-quite-captors had rented a room at the local inn, for the SOLDIER's voracious appetite for knowledge was cut off when he was, along with the rest of the patrons, expulsed for the night; both men waited for him and led him to a decently sized room with all of the amenities a man might require. Out of shape though he was, the General slept with one eye open and returned to his studies the following day with no interest in lazing about. There was so much unknown history to read through that he thought he might never be finished, gazing up at all of the shelves of books towering before him. Sephiroth was not a man willing to go into any situation blindly, however, and read on to satiate his concern if nothing else. He would have forgone eating and sleeping entirely, but the blonde and brunette forced him to stop for food and kept him from sneaking into the library as the nights drifted by.

After a week, Sephiroth was no closer to understanding why the experiments were so at ease with him, although they did seem wary of what he might read. That was understandable based on what fraction of history the General now knew. He couldn't continue to think of himself as a military leader anymore, either, now that he was thinking about the world more clearly. Nor was he a SOLDIER. They were extinct, as were the rest of Hojo's original creations. All that remained of the world he had once known were the two who had fought against his not-mother Jenova. No matter how overwhelming, the silver warrior resolved to take this new situation in stride.

He turned to more current history, studying maps of the current layout of the Planet's geography and citing important towns and cities. Vilfain was apparently the largest city on the continent known as Anlang; a capital of knowledge and learning, the city was the storehouse of all the texts acquired through the ages. The library he currently inhabited stored all of the collected and recovered papers, files, and data history produced. The current denizens of the continent of Wutai, fighters of the highest caliber with little love for foreigners, respected this place as an unbiased bastion of knowledge that stored many copies of original, untranslated Wutanese manuscripts.

There was not a great deal of change in how civilization was structured from the standpoint of townships. Most villages were barely specs on the map, holding perhaps two hundred men, women, and children. There were a few large towns and four big cities, two of the latter being ports. After a few days, the silver warrior at least felt comfortable that he understood the basics, such as Wutai being the world power with the biggest military, and how Mako-based monsters had mutated and bred. It was the final night before they were to return to the little house that overlooked the basin where Midgar once stood that Sephiroth finally received an answer, albeit unwittingly, as to why the two men took him in.

It was Strife who blocked the scientists, who were intent on recollecting their prize while rambling about lost time and data, at the door to the room. Valentine guarded the area by the window while Sephiroth rapidly gathered what he needed should the time come for him to hastily vacate the premise. He had not focused on physically healing himself and was still in rather too poor of a state should fighting be required. Strife remained unmoved by the threat of physical violence and only casually glanced at all of the guards and soldiers in the hall outside the room waiting to claim the elite for further experimentation. The silver warrior recognized the calculating look in blue eyes – it was just like his own – and realized suddenly that the next few minutes were critical to how the rest of his life played out.

One of the scientists, a short woman wearing bright colors under her pressed white coat, snapped at the rest of those present when they began talking over themselves, clamoring to regain Sephiroth and unable to see why the blonde was obstinately getting in their way. She silently eyed the stout fighter, sizing him up before extending a hand and introducing herself as Dr. Mjrn. Strife did not move a muscle in recognition of the greeting, although he did focus his attention on her, much to the silver warrior's suppressed amusement. After some time her hand lowered and she dropped formalities, telling the blonde that he would not be charged criminally if he would kindly return the project. Strife gained a peculiar expression before asking what project, precisely, he was keeping from them. From the dead silence that followed, Sephiroth gathered that a dangerous game was being played and he merely bided his time trapped in a room with two unlikely allies.

When the woman regained her tongue, her next question received a similar curt response. The blonde obviously wasn't pulling any punches, merely replying that his name was Strife and awaiting her next move. Every question and needle met with similar stark rebuffs until, obviously frustrated, she dropped what she assumed to be the veritable bombshell and referred to the silver warrior as "a perfect DNA copy of the World Destroyer." The blonde retorted that his name was Sephiroth, earning a bemused glance from the so far silent gunman. Utterly exasperated, the scientist asked what reason he could possibly have for aiding and abetting such a criminal. The ex-SOLDIER, unable to ask that question himself, listened quietly and was unable to hide his surprise at the response.

Strife took on an expression of apathy before he stated in a low voice that what was done was done and the past should be left there instead of getting belligerently dragged forward. Time healed a lot of wounds if given half the chance and no one deserved to be tortured for crimes, no matter how heinous. Furthermore, it might do the scientists some good to establish a few more facts before demanding anything resembling human sacrifice from anyone. When the guns cocked and readied against him, the blonde raised a brow and crossed his arms nonchalantly. Mjrn raised a hand, brown eyes locked on passive blue, before telling the soldiers to lower their weapons. With a tight, forced politeness, she adjusted the small glasses perched on the bridge of her nose and thanked the blonde to please be a little less vague. Strife narrowed his eyes, annoyance plain, before stating that no one had the right to harm the innocent. The backlash that comment caused in the crowd was instantaneous, as was the return of rifles pointed directly at the blonde's head and chest.

Someone fired, perhaps by accident, but Strife moved automatically to protect the doctor standing in the line of fire and the bullet ricocheted into the far wall inside the bedroom harmlessly. Narrowed blue eyes turned to the startled soldiers, glowing brightly, and earning a shocked gasp from a young lady holding a rifle. The gun was quickly lowered, brown eyes blinking in astonishment before she murmured the one thing that stopped everyone else. Now identified as _the immortal_ Cloud Strife, the guards and scientists fidgeted under the Mako-enhanced glare. Clearing her throat, the head scientist smoothed out her coat with a nervous swipe of her hand and bowed, asking that he forgive the indiscretion of the misfired shot. Strife said nothing, entire body slipping back into a passive state. Mjrn asked hesitantly once more why a man known for his crimes against mankind would ever receive aid from such a just, honorable hero. With a shuttered expression, the blonde replied that Sephiroth had been a hero once and, from the things that the _fully sane_ (strange, how such a statement needed to be stressed so blatantly) man had unknowingly let slip, this particular embodiment, be it original or clone, had no recollection of anything beyond the fire of Nibelheim, so what kind of monsters would they be to hold him accountable for crimes he never committed?

Although obviously not satisfied, the scientists left at Mjrn's command and she cast a wary glance at the silent ex-General standing in the room. Perhaps the blonde was not without sympathy, for he placed a hand on the woman's shoulder and told her that he was personally holding himself responsible for this Sephiroth's actions and she could do the same. Seemingly mollified, she returned her focus to the boyish face frozen in time and laid a pale hand on the calloused appendage on her shoulder. Washing her hands of the entire business, she stated that she would have nothing more to do with the Remnant unless specifically asked by either immortal. With the sharp click of her heals, she left and the blonde's shoulders visibly relaxed although the ex-General had not noticed the tension earlier. Thus the silver warrior was spared further torment by a man who never once needed to raise his voice and yet had more right then any living today to see him in agony. But, offered the answer to his question, the ex-SOLDIER no longer felt quite so ill-at-ease whenever he caught sight of the blonde.

The brunette was another concern entirely for the next few weeks after they returned to that little house. Sephiroth carefully observed his caretakers, more curious than worried, to discover why the ex-Turk would not lift a finger against him. He could only conclude after observation that the brunette based his actions solely on Strife's wellbeing. There was nothing particularly telling about their relationship past that frankly obsessive behavior, however. Sephiroth did not claim to understand it, but decided that he would have time to do so in the future and focused now on healing and regaining his lacking strength.

Only once had the ex-General seen his caretakers fight in the months he thus far remained with them, leaving a thick lust in his mind for the time he might join in such a magnificent spar. He did not suspect either man would mind his insertion into their schedules and took to training his body with vigor. His exhaustion day after day did not surprise the immortal men nor did his eventual request for a blade. He was not yet strong enough for continued use of one, but patience and practice and time were all that were required. Strife retrieved a katana for the ex-SOLDIER willingly, and Sephiroth held back his mild surprise at the ready acceptance of his request. The silver warrior opted not to question his apparent good fortune and instead worked toward carving out a place for himself in this present day where he would be scorned by all who recognized him. Things could be worse without question, but Sephiroth thought very little of what-if's; doubting one's self left a soldier vulnerable and the ex-General refused to give in to such pathetic thoughts. He was here, the past would not change, and he had been given a puzzle in the form of his caretakers to occupy his mind and a chance to strengthen his body.

In time, he vowed, he would understand the way Strife ticked and what made Valentine so completely obedient to the blonde's whims. In time, Sephiroth thought, he would understand the society around him and the land he now had to call home. In time, he knew, he would be able to decide for himself what life he would live without the stifling lock of his Shin-Ra contract or Hojo's manipulative influence. Perhaps the future was not a bad time to live in.


End file.
